“You can fly yourself there, like the rest of us. You keep a fighter of your own, and you have practiced with me often enough for me to know that you happen to be a very good pilot. I also know that you flew with the packs for several years before you transferred to helm.”
“Yes, but I am needed here.” Consherra seized upon that thought as an excuse.
Valthyrra regarded her closely. “Just who do you think is flying this ship right now? Your value is as second- in-command, not as an emergency flight computer, and just now your knowledge of sentient computer systems makes you invaluable to this mission.”
There was a long moment of silence, during which there was an abrupt shift in viewpoints in this argument. Velmeran, who had been considering the requirements of this expedition only as its leader, suddenly remembered his earlier prophecy was likely to be the cause of his own death. He had forgotten that prediction mostly because it had ceased to be valid. But now it was back. Someone in this room, himself included, would not survive the assault on the Challenger, but he had no idea who. At least he could be certain of Consherra’s safety.
“Actually, Consherra is right,” he said quickly. “There is no reason for her to go. I can modify the Challenger’s programming as easily as she could.”
“Oh, of course,” Valthyrra agreed, supporting him enthusiastically for some reason of her own. “I doubt that her abilities would make that much difference.”
Consherra, however, had been considering the matter herself, and she had realized that this might be her only opportunity to accompany Velmeran on one of his special tactics missions. “Now wait just a moment. No one can hide that loop as well as I can, and the success of the mission depends on it.”
That was followed by a moment of complete silence. This abrupt and complete reversal of positions left everyone speechless with confusion and surprise. Even Lenna appeared to be fully awake for the first time.
“Meran, I have to share the risks like everyone else on this ship,” she continued. “It happens that there is a task to be done that I can do better than anyone else.”
Velmeran frowned and looked up at Valthyrra. Her camera pod made a helpless shrugging motion. “She is right, as much as I hate to admit it.”
Velmeran knew that himself, although he found it almost impossible to agree. He shivered imperceptively at the memory, more vivid than it had been these past two years, of the horror of waiting for Dveyella to die while he had been unable to help her. At last he nodded slowly, then looked over at Baress. “Will you come with us?”
“I would be delighted.”
“What about me, Captain?” Tregloran asked anxiously.
“Oh, I had something in mind when I asked you here,” Velmeran said, smiling. “I need for you, Trel, and Marlena to stay with the ships and guard our way out. Our suit communication will not penetrate the quartzite shielding on the hull, so I need a good telepath on the outside to relay any messages.”
“And me,” Lenna added with determination.
“You?” Velmeran looked at her questioningly. “Just what do you think you can do for us?”
“Any number of things,” she declared. “For one thing, I can put on a Union junior officer’s uniform and walk around that big ship just about anywhere I want to go. That’s why you hired me, remember. I’m your spy. And saboteur.”
Velmeran considered that for a moment and nodded thoughtfully; he knew exactly what she had in mind. “I believe you might just be useful after all. If you are not previously occupied — and able to stay awake — I would be honored if you would accompany us.”
Lenna smiled mischievously. “I already knew that you would be needing me.”
“And I knew when I called you here that you were planning to go,” Velmeran added. “So this is where we stand. Baress, Consherra, and I will go inside the fortress to do the program tampering. Lenna will go along to do whatever she can. I have been looking at Schayressa’s scan, so I know where we can enter. It involves a walk — in straight-line distances — of just over five kilometers. Since our direct communication will be cut off, we had better make arrangements now. As soon as we go in, Valthyrra will allow the Challenger to pass and fall in some distance behind. We can use transports in formation to clear a corridor that resembles her own. At our signal she will close for the attack, forcing the Challenger out of the ring and into open space.”
“And just how do I force her out?” Valthyrra asked.
“She is going to go willingly,” he assured her. “When she sees an undamaged Methryn coming at her from behind, she is going to run to open space where she can fight more effectively.”
The camera pod nodded thoughtfully. “You are probably right. But how do you land seven fighters on her hull undetected?”
“In a mass of general confusion. To put it simply, we need a diversion.”
“Oh? What kind of a diversion?”
“Oh, I had something in mind,” Velmeran said as he leaned back in his chair. “If nothing else works, we can always throw rocks.”
“Are you sure that you feel up to it?” Velmeran asked, pausing at the door as he followed the others out. Valthyrra regarded him quizzically. “Do I feel up to it?”
“Well, you are getting a little old.”
“Old?” She lifted her camera pod threateningly. “I, for one, do not consider eighteen thousand to be old at all, not compared to how long I expect to last. Nor do I believe that Donalt Trace or any other two-armed primate can build a better machine than I am, and I intend to prove it.”
“Just checking,” Velmeran said, and disappeared out the door.
“I like that!” Valthyrra remarked to herself as she stared for a moment, then turned to Mayelna. “Surely he has no complaint about my performance.”
Mayelna stared in disbelief. “Are you serious? He was just playing with you. When were you ever not ready for a fight?”
“I guess so,” she agreed weakly, then turned to Consherra. “And what of yourself? What could possibly possess you to insist upon going?”
“As I recall, you and Velmeran did all the insisting,” Consherra replied defensively. “Then, once you convinced me of the necessity, you abruptly changed your minds.”
“I had momentarily forgotten one important matter,” the ship reminded her. “As you seem to have forgotten altogether. How can you possibly go? Can you still fit inside your armor?”
Consherra glanced apprehensively at Mayelna, and could tell by the Commander’s expression that she was well aware of what the ship was implying. She had the sudden urge to tamper with Valthyrra’s programming; this was embarrassing enough as it was.
“Yes, I can still fit inside my armor,” she insisted, turning back to the glaring camera pod. “I am still just a month along, with five months yet to go. This is something I must do.”
“And what about the safety of your child?” Valthyrra countered.
“I am aware of the risk, and I accept it,” Consherra replied firmly. “You know that little short of my own death will do my child any harm.”
“Velmeran would not want you to take this risk.”
Consherra drew herself up sternly. “Velmeran is my mate and the father of my child. I know that he would not approve, but the decision remains my own. Baressa is pregnant by the same father, and yet not even he questions her right to take part in this. In fact, he left her in command of the packs in his absence.”
“Enough, Val,” Mayelna interrupted when the ship was prepared to protest yet again. “She is right on two important points. She is needed, and it is her decision. Nor is Velmeran to be told of… her condition. He has enough to think about just now, and that would be too much of a distraction.”
“Very well,” Valthyrra agreed reluctantly.
Consherra turned to Mayelna and smiled self-consciously. “I am sorry, Commander.”
“Sorry about what?” Mayelna demanded gently. “Dear girl, I can die happy now.”
“But, commander…”
“No, girl, stop worrying about it,” Mayelna said firmly. She began to rise but decided that she should not; this came as more of a surprise than she wanted anyone to know. “Listen, I know what this means to you, and I know how happy this is going to make him. That is all that really matters. If my approval is that important to you, then understand that I could not be more pleased. And you can bet that old chips-for-brains is excited, or she would not
